


Chokin' Hot

by Voido



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Choking, Electricity, Futaba is wonderful, Hair-pulling, Kinda, Kinks, Knifeplay, M/M, Makoto is so done with this bullshit, Metaverse, Semi-Sexual Content, Sparks, Suggestive Themes, cause they sexy af, glove-appreciation, mentioned Yutaba, no dicks tho, prompt-of-sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 23:22:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15593055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voido/pseuds/Voido
Summary: “O-okay, listen, I know it’s fucked up a-and I wouldn’t ask’ya if...shit. It keeps me awake, man, I can’t not think about it, it clouds my mind whenever I fuckin’ see you in this stupid outfit, with these fuckin’ cheap porn gloves, I—”“Rude.”“Joker!”Or: The day Akira Kurusu and Ryuji Sakamoto learn about each other's quite interesting kinks in the best yet worst way possible.





	Chokin' Hot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lod/gifts), [canticle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/canticle/gifts), [bubblebangbaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblebangbaby/gifts).



> I have no justification for this, especially for the goddamn title.  
> You're allowed to laugh, because DAMN, I DID, TOO.

He gets the texts in the middle of the night, right after an exhausting trip to Mementos followed by helping out in the convenience store in Shibuya, because  _ those weapons sadly don’t pay for themselves _ .

When Akira unlocks his phone to see the messages he’s gotten, ignoring Morgana’s very annoyed exclamation that whoever dares to call this late in the day is  _ just rude _ , he can’t help but read the words twice.

 

**_From: Sakamoto Ryuji_ **

_ 01:24: Hey, you’re probably asleepn all but there’s somethin I wanna talk about and uhh… _

_ 01:26: There’s this...thing I’ve been...thinking about lately, and there ain’t anyone besides you I could ask, so...ymind going to Mementos again tmrw? _

 

For a minute or two, Akira just keeps staring at his phone motionlessly, confused by the cryptic messages. It’s not unlike Ryuji to ask him to do some extra training, but it’s  _ definitely _ unlike Ryuji to seem so sheepish about it. Whatever it is he wants to  _ talk _ about, Akira has this slight hunch that it should be only the two of them.

He looks over to Morgana apologetically, manages a smile and shrugs.

“It’s Ryuji.”

“Surprising.”

Chuckling dryly, he considers what he should answer. There’s no way he’d refuse, especially since it seems super important to Ryuji, but it’d still be great to generally know what he’s in for.

 

**_To: Sakamoto Ryuji_ **

_ 01:30: I don’t mind. _

_ 01:31: Is there a reason you bring this up at half past 1? _

_ 01:31: Asking for a friend. _

_ 01:32: (Yes, it’s Morgana.) _

 

“Leave me out of this!” Morgana shouts at him and flees to the other side of the bed, curls up next to Akira’s feet and mumbles something about Ryuji being an idiot for tearing him out of his wonderful salmon-dream.

“Sorry, Mona. I guess that leaves you with Futaba tomorrow.”

“Hah! If that means not seeing Ryuji’s face…”

They both fall silent after Akira harrumphs loudly and Morgana sighs, and eventually, when there’s no other message in quite a while, they both manage to fall asleep again.

Akira rises unnaturally early the next morning. Maybe it’s because he’s worried — Ryuji  _ still _ hasn’t answered him, and they haven’t even agreed on a time to meet yet — but something tells him he should be prepared for  _ anything _ . His mind has already raced through the worst possible scenarios, but in no case does going to Mementos to talk make any kind of sense to him.

“You seem troubled, kid. Fight with a friend?”

He shakes his head and looks up from his curry to find Sojiro smirking, eyebrow raised suspiciously.

“Ryuji’s just being an idiot!” Morgana screams from his spot on the chair next to Akira’s, which gets him one mad and one very confused look in return. He knows that Sojiro can’t hear him, but Akira figures that it’s still hard not to speak his mind just because of that.

“Noisy again, aren’t we. Here, have a treat.”

Akira finishes his curry in silence, reaches for his phone to shoot Ryuji a text or just  _ call him _ when the  _ Pi Pi _ sound goes off, notifying him of an incoming message.

He smiles at how perfectly timed it is.

 

**_From: Sakamoto Ryuji_ **

_ 08:45: Damn. Sorry, dude, fell asleep right after askin. Couldn’t sleep cause of it and just had to tell ya. _

_ 08:46: Does 10 work forya? _

 

He keeps his reply simple by answering  _ that’s fine _ and stuffing the phone into his pocket. It’s enough time to think about what’s going on, but not enough to get anxious about what might possibly happen, and he’s immensely glad about that. It’s not like him to worry about something like this without proper reason to do so, but then again it also isn’t like Ryuji to send him cryptic, almost shy texts instead of just spilling his mind.

“I’m leaving,” he says eventually, after cleaning his plate, and waves on his way to the door. “If Futaba asks, please tell her  _ Shibuya underground _ . She’ll understand.”

“You best stay out of trouble, kid.”

He really hopes so, too.

When Akira heads to their usual spot in Shibuya, Ryuji is already waiting, one hand impatiently drumming on the railing, the other fiddling with his shirt’s neckline nervously. He looks up when Akira approaches him and comes to a halt, burying his hands in his pockets and waiting.

There’s gotta be  _ some _ sort of explanation before they head in.

“H-hey. Thanks for, uh, takin’ the time.”

Ryuji’s voice is small, and if it were anyone else, Akira would go as far as to call it  _ pathetic _ . But this is his best friend, and no matter how unnatural it is for him to act so sheepishly, it’s only fair to give him a chance to explain.

“It seemed important to you.”

“Y-yeah! I, I mean, kinda? C-can we just head in? All these people makin’ me nervous.”

Akira simply nods and reaches for his phone while they head for a less crowded spot to enter Mementos. It’s still dangerous — people  _ could _ see them disappear if they really paid attention — but there’s no surefire way to prevent that from happening, so they do what they always do and try to be as casual as possible when he taps on their destination and the world around them changes.

The second they’re in, he shoves the phone back into his pocket and leaves his hand right there, turns around to Ryuji and tilts his head to invite him to speak. After all, they’re on their own now, so he should be able to say whatever it is he wants to say, and freely so.

“Is this private enough?” Akira asks with a cocky smile, enjoying the shade of red that creeps up Ryuji’s cheeks. He might be able to knock out enemies three times as big as he is, but if there’s something that bothers him, he’s timid; and it’s incredibly adorable.

“Yeah, I...guess? Listen, man, this is gonna be really...uh, awkward?”

“Well. Considering you dragged me all the way to Mementos, and on a Sunday, too…”

He makes sure that the words don’t sound in any way offended or mad, because he isn’t. Spending time with Ryuji is never a problem to him — honestly, Akira is just trying to be smug and poised, and he’s fully conscious of it. Maybe that’s why he dares to move in just a step closer, reach for Ryuji’s shoulder and squeeze it tightly, before adding:

“I would expect it to be.”

His voice is quiet, dark, dry, all facts that he’s aware of. He’s still not sure if this is the Metaverse controlling him in some way, but he definitely feels different whenever he’s covered in tight leather clothes, with his way-too-long coat and those gloves that make the people feel  _ something _ when he adjusts them. Ann has commented on it before, Yusuke too, and he knows that Ryuji looks at the way the fabric plays around his fingers a  _ little _ too often and a  _ little _ too long for it to be entirely casual.

Akira grins at his own confidence, and only realizes how close they really are when there’s a hand on his chest keeping him at distance.  _ Right. _ He shouldn’t be assuming anything about this situation just because he feels powerful in this attire, stuffed with a dozen different spirits inside himself; yet even so, he can’t help the feeling he gets about Ryuji’s nervosity. 

“I, uh...it ain’t easy to explain, but...lately…”

“Just spill it.”

Ryuji gasps. His hand twitches on Akira’s waistcoat and he swallows hard, looks down at himself, back up again and fiddles with his scarf restlessly. It’s hard not to watch every movement, and even harder not to go further, lean in, tease him a little—

“I want you to choke me.”

For a very long moment, there’s dead silence between them. Akira considers blaming what he’s heard on his own mind playing a trick on him, but that absolutely doesn’t fit the way Ryuji bites his lip, looks away and tries to hide the vicious red on his cheeks. He said it. He  _ means it. _

“That’s...not what I expected,” Akira admits slowly. He’d figured that if it was something meant for their ears only, it must be something private, something  _ intimate _ even. But he certainly didn’t think it would be anything so  _ kinky _ , nor does he understand the need to be in the Metaverse for it. And that doesn’t even address the question of  _ what brought this up in the first place _ .

“O-okay, listen, I know it’s fucked up a-and I wouldn’t ask’ya if...shit. It keeps me awake, man, I can’t not think about it, it clouds my mind whenever I fuckin’ see you in this stupid outfit, with these fuckin’ cheap porn gloves, I—”

“Rude.”

“Joker!”

He harrumphs and nods apologetically, but before Ryuji can go on rambling, Akira grabs the hand that’s still fiddling with his bright-red scarf, holds it gently but tightly and leans in a little closer to murmur:

“I’ll do it.”

Everything’s immediately different. The confusing atmosphere has turned into something personal, intimate, and above all,  _ thrilling _ . He should refuse, should insist on them turning back and forgetting this ever happened. He definitely shouldn’t wrap his fingers around Ryuji’s and pull slightly, and he  _ especially _ shouldn’t hum at how Ryuji’s eyes widen in shock, how he stumbles back against the wall and swallows hard, opens and closes his mouth without saying a word—

But he does. In fact, Akira finds himself enjoying every second of it, finds himself leaning in closer, feels a shiver run down his spine when he realizes that his heels give him just the right lift to allow him to look  _ down _ on Ryuji, to force Ryuji to look  _ up  _ to him.

“J-Joker, I…”

He shakes his head slowly, makes a shushing sound and puts a finger on Ryuji’s lips to shut him up before he can even start. Ryuji nods, lets go of his scarf and takes a deep breath, reaches out for Akira’s coat and buries his fingers in it as if he needs the support.

_ He probably does _ , Akira thinks confidently, and can’t help the arousal spiraling up inside him at the thought. He knows it’s wrong, somehow, to feel that way, but part of him wants to hear Ryuji beg, see him squirm and struggle and eventually give himself up.

“Relax.”

It’s the only thing Akira says before sloppily leading them closer to the seats nearby and forcing Ryuji to sit. He fights back weakly, but eventually gives in; not without complaint, though.

“Why—?”

“Are you sure about this?”

Akira towers over him now, lets a gloved finger trail down Ryuji’s warm cheek, down to his racing pulse, and keeps it lingering right there. He can’t deny that it’s a turn-on, and if Ryuji weren’t his best friend, he would probably have a harder time composing himself, but as things are...he really doesn’t want to  _ hurt _ him.

“What the— Dude, yes?”

He nods, swallows and makes a small, insecure gesture. He’s not  _ against _ it, but it feels too dangerous to just go for it like that.

“Give me something. I suppose a safe word is pointless here, but...a motion. Some indicator to make me stop.”

Looking around frantically as if trying to find something, Ryuji nods. He seems impatient, he’s definitely on edge and maybe still in slight disbelief that this is truly happening.

“How ‘bout this?”

He forms a circle with his thumb, ring finger and pinkie, and stretches out his index and middle finger. Akira gets it immediately — it’s quick, but not something you’d do accidentally or without a specific context. Nodding slowly, he mimics the gesture and licks his lips in a weird sort of anticipation.

“Alright.”

Ryuji’s hand reaches up to his, guides him to his Adam’s apple and presses them both against it slightly. Akira feels it — the skin giving in smoothly, the muscle refusing to be squished — and he can’t help how much it turns him on, how much further he wants to go, so he tries, carefully, wraps thumb and index finger around warm, sweating skin and squeezes lightly, cautiously. It feels good — the way he’s being slowed down the more he presses his fingers in, the way Ryuji moans when nails dig into his skin, the way he gasps and sends electricity through his bones when—

Wait.

Akira lets go immediately and backs away, takes a deep breath to calm himself down and looks away in shock.  _ Too far. _ Way too far.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs quietly, ashamed of letting himself get carried away. They’re both panting — all of a sudden he’s not sure what to think. Hearing Ryuji fight for air has somehow managed to knock him out of his obsessive trance, his desperate need to cross the line, to enjoy something that he knows he shouldn’t.

“I...didn’t ask you to stop.”

His head jolts up, eyes wide in shock. Instead of realizing how bad of an idea all of this is, Ryuji looks  _ ecstatic _ , reaches out and pulls Akira closer again by his coat, tugs on it and looks up at him like an innocent, eager puppy asking for a treat.

He dislikes himself for it a lot, but when he sees the keen look in Ryuji’s eyes, feels him lean up and physically beg for more, Akira can’t help but think about the many ways he  _ wants  _ to give him this treat. Even though he knows he shouldn’t, he reaches for the soft fabric around Ryuji’s neck, pulls him  _ closer _ , forces him to rise off the seat, and kisses him hard enough to throw them both off balance. He shoves Ryuji back against the wall, cups his head to shield it from harm and feels the stone scrape off the skin under his gloves. It’s a little unpleasant, but he’s busy biting at trembling lips, focused on unknotting the scarf and getting rid of it. He wants more. He  _ needs _ more.

Curious fingers trail up his back, hold him close, plead him to go on, and he’s more than ready to. Reminding himself to be more gentle this time, he wraps his hand around Ryuji’s neck without breaking the kiss, chokes him until he moans into it, feels nails dig through the fabric of his waistcoat and groans at the feeling of another electric shock hitting him. There’s no doubt that it’s accidental, and the thought makes him feel light-headed, thrilled.

His hand twitches when Ryuji suddenly swallows hard, skin and muscle protesting against the squeezing, but this time, Akira keeps his hand in place — motionless, but still wrapped around Ryuji’s neck.

“Sh-shit,” Ryuji coughs and bites his lip, half-lidded eyes looking up eagerly, and lets his hands trail up under the waistcoat he’s been clinging to. His fingers tremble, his nails leave scratches on Akira’s back and instinctively he digs his own fingers deeper into Ryuji’s neck, strong, racing pulse beating against them. For a second, Akira considers tearing the skin open, reaching for his knife and bringing it up to his best friend’s neck. He knows he would never truly harm him, but the thought of hot crimson streaming down wet skin arouses him immensely, and before he really thinks it through, his lips and teeth are leaving dark bruises on Ryuji’s chin, on his Adam’s apple and right above his exposed vein.

He nips on the skin lightly, sucks on the warm pulse and moans against it when a hand reaches up to his head, fingers burying themselves in his hair. Somehow, it makes him feel tingly, but he doesn’t get the chance to ask himself why, because Ryuji already fists his hair and  _ pulls _ .

It catches Akira off guard; he gasps, backs away and stares, confused about the sudden loss of control. There’s a glint in Ryuji’s eyes; he seems curious, elated even, but equally surprised about the intense reaction.

“Did you just…,” Akira mouths in disbelief, juts his chin forward arrogantly and feels his eyes go wide. He feels his Metaverse-boosted confidence bubble up again, decides that he’s played for long enough and lets go of Ryuji to reach for his knife and bring it up between them in one swift motion.

“Careful,” he murmurs, lets the sharp blade rip open the soft, leathery fabric of Ryuji’s suit and runs his free hand over the bare collarbone. He’s composed — the knife stills right above Ryuji’s heart. He wouldn’t dare move, he wouldn’t dare  _ allow himself _ to move, but knowing just how much power he holds makes him feel dizzy and stupidly almighty. He only realizes that Ryuji’s hand is still resting on the back of his head when another spark hits him, but when he looks up, what he sees isn’t the same oblivious pleasure on his friend’s face.

It’s  _ awareness _ . Ryuji  _ knows _ what he’s doing.

“You—”

He nods before Akira can fully form a sentence, grins shyly and chuckles before swallowing hard. He knows, but he’s still insecure about it — which is somehow  _ typically Ryuji _ , and Akira can’t help but love it.

“Alright. Let’s see what you’re made of.”

He purrs the words arrogantly, raises the knife up to Ryuji’s cheek and drags it over the soft skin, hums at the shocked gasp he gets in return and takes a step forward again so they’re as close as they were before. Tapping on his mask shortly to summon his Persona’s power, he presses his lips against the incision, licks the blood off it and murmurs a simple  _ “Diarama” _ against it to make sure it heals without leaving any scars. The green streams of light merge with the flames reforming the mask on his face, and he barely feels the next spark hit him before he makes a decision, presses the flat of the blade against Ryuji’s throat hard enough to cause him to stop and shakes his head slowly.

“Wait.”

Akira takes a deep breath, tears the mask off again and whispers a single word:

“Metatron.”

He feels the presence of the angelic Persona burst out of his mind, his body, knows that for the shortest second, madness overwhelms and controls him, relishes the surprised look on Ryuji’s face, and cups his cheek tenderly when the fire around them disappears.

“Hit me again.”

It’s not a question or a plea — it’s an  _ order _ , and they both know it. For just a moment, it looks like Ryuji might refuse; he hesitates, brings his hands up before himself and laughs weakly, but eventually nods.

“Glad I ain’t the only weirdo, dude.”

When Akira pockets the knife again, leans in and presses their lips together almost violently, he expects an electric shock; not just an involuntary flash of lightning, but a proper, intentional Zio.

He does  _ not _ expect anything more powerful than that, and he’s unable to keep himself on his feet when an unrestrained Ziodyne finds its way right through his body, sends him flying at least a good two meters and leaves him trembling even when the spell itself has long vanished.

It’s like he’s  _ on fire. _

Before he can say a word, Ryuji is by his side — on top of him, almost, reaching for his hand and trying to form a proper sentence.

“I— shit, sorry, man. I—, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine.”

It’s  _ more than fine _ , actually. He takes Ryuji’s hand, leads it back up to his head and nuzzles into it eagerly. At least if they’re already on the floor, it can’t send either of them flying.

“I...don’t wanna hurt you,” Ryuji objects but doesn’t let go, gently combs through Akira’s hair, seemingly unaware of how whenever he grabs a handful and pulls slightly, it causes Akira to lick his lips desperately and makes him see stars.  _ But that‘s the best part _ , he wants to say, wraps both his hands around his friend‘s throat and pushes them both over to sit on his hips. Ryuji clings onto him, digs his nails deeper into the skin on Akira‘s head the more he chokes him, closes his eyes and bites his lips before gasping for air as well as he‘s able to. The suffocating sounds he makes scare Akira, yet they‘re equally arousing, and he honestly isn‘t entirely sure what he feels. Ryuji‘s thigh is somewhere on his back, pushes him up a little and keeps him in place.

“Is…,” Ryuji suddenly starts slowly, his voice hardly even a whisper, his throat protesting against the hands that are still pinning him down and squeezing tightly.

“Is that…all you got?”

And then he has the audacity to grin, to  _ raise an eyebrow _ cockily and move his hips up slowly in the most teasing way  _ ever _ , and even though Akira has a hunch that he’ll end up regretting it, he leans down, digs his nails into the pulsing vein on Ryuji’s neck and kisses him hard, leaves him hardly able to breathe; he sucks,  _ bites _ on shuddering lips, catches the tongue that hungrily reaches out for his and then-

Then he isn’t sure what happens first.

The fingers buried deep into his hair pull so hard that arousal and pain both meld into one, the moan escaping him borders on  _ embarrassingly loud _ and the spell that hits him is strong enough to knock him out of his clear mind for a good few seconds.

_ Zionga _ , is the last he can think when his eyes fall shut.

When he opens them again with a deep, desperate inhale, he’s lying on the cold stone floor, his head neatly bedded into Ryuji’s lap who’s seemingly torn between pride, worry and relief.

“Guess that was a lil far.”

Akira nods, sits up and brings a hand up to his face. He can still feel the electricity tingle in his bones, he’s still dizzy from the blood-curling force of the exploding spark boiling in his body, and he’s still vibrating from the shock when he forces himself up and leans against the wall next to the entrance for support.

“Almost like a fight, hm?” he whispers quietly but smiles, lets his head fall forward to rest on Ryuji’s shoulder, and closes his eyes to relax for a little longer.

This  _ really _ isn’t what he expected while heading for Shibuya earlier this morning.

“You sure you fine, man?”

“Mhm.”

But for good measure, Akira switches masks again, this time to Hariti, and casts a  _ Mediarama _ on both of them. It feels good, refreshing, but he’s still wrecked from the heavy Zionga that hit him earlier, and although he  _ knows _ that Ryuji is still on fire as well, his voice of reason tells him to stop right here and at least have a proper talk about this before actually getting each other killed in the process of it.

Other than that, though…

“This was thrilling,” he admits, looks up and smirks at the way Ryuji turns his head, seemingly at a loss for what he should say to that.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Before he can get any approval or objection, Akira already reaches for his phone and leads him back to the real world.

The tingling feeling is gone immediately – part of him mourns it, but mostly, he’s glad. Finally, his mind eases and he feels able to think again. That, however, seems to go for himself only.

“The  _ hell _ ,” Ryuji announces loudly, face a bright red and violently turned away, staring at a wall or the railing or something,  _ anything _ that isn’t Akira.

“Are you alright?”

“Well, take a guess!”

He turns around, eyes blown wide, gestures uselessly as if that explained anything, and walks around restlessly.

“I…god, what the hell?! I hurt’ya, and…th-that’s not what I wanted, when-”

“Ryuji. There’s people looking.”

They both know Akira doesn’t care about the looks, but he  _ does _ care about anyone hearing the words  _ Mementos _ or  _ Metaverse _ or anything that goes in the same direction.

Ryuji gets it, nods and lowers his voice.

“I-I knew I could only do it in there, dude. Hard t’explain, but. In there, I ain’t me. Not this me. I’m some cool dude beating up vicious foes and…is that weird?”

Remembering the confidence boost that Akira gets whenever he feels his coat shape around his body, when he hears the voices of his masks empower him, he chuckles and shakes his head.

“I get it.”

He moves closer, notices the red marks on Ryuji’s throat and swallows. They’re  _ obvious, _ and as much as Akira knows he should feel guilty or at least be worried about what people might think, he’s proud.

“How does curry sound?”

“God. Great, man. Let’s get goin’.”

It’s almost painful how normal things are right after leaving – they don’t talk about their  _ quite  _ remarkable trip to Mementos on the way back to Leblanc, they make up a stupid excuse for Ryuji’s choke marks when Sojiro asks – something about him almost strangling himself while searching for something in his wardrobe; it’s suspicious, but not  _ unbelievable _ , and since Sojiro never asks, Akira believes it’s fine.

Still, when they’re up in the attic later, Ryuji trailing along his own harmed skin with two fingers, staring up at the ceiling and subconsciously tapping his foot on the blanket, Akira can’t help but move over to his crafting table and reach for the shady laptop that he got a while ago.

“Whadd’ya’p to?”

He doesn’t reply, unplugs the device and brings it over to the bed so they can both look at what he’s searching for together. It’s a bit embarrassing, too, so he prefers not to say it out loud, really.

“ _ How to _ \- wait  _ what _ dude!”

Ryuji’s face is  _ dangerously _ red when he presses the words out, and it’s  _ adorable _ .

“I figured we should be safer next time.”

“Yeah, r-right? Next time? D-dude, I…”

He harrumphs, chuckles nervously and turns away to hide his shame, but lets Akira reach out for him and stroke his hair. That’s fine. Outside of the Metaverse, Akira can’t really deny that  _ shy, insecure _ Ryuji is one of his favorites.

Maybe that’s why he eventually puts the laptop away, hugs Ryuji from behind and plants a kiss on his cheek invitingly, not expecting him to turn around, press him into the mattress and kiss him keenly.

It’s new, thrilling, and if two very unexpected kinks are what eventually led them together, that’s more than okay.

 

…

 

That, however, saves neither of them from unbelievable embarrassment during the next meeting, where they sit with the other Thieves carefreely, not expecting anything bad at all.

“Ah, by the way, Akira, Ryuji.”

There’s something dirty in Futaba’s voice, and even before she elaborates, Akira knows what’s going to happen, and he prays to  _ whatever _ higher entity that she spares them.

She doesn’t.

“I highly suggest  _ safekinks.com. _ It’s my favorite.”

The gasp that comes from Makoto is  _ frightening _ , even more so than the sound of Ann almost choking to death on her iced coffee. Akira decides that it’s for the best to keep his mouth shut  _ very _ tightly, because he knows Futaba can  _ and _ will destroy them further if he says something that he shouldn’t.

Instead, he shoots the other girls an apologetic look, hopes that they can all forget about this  _ very _ quickly, and, by all means, avoids looking over to Ryuji.  _ Great God. _

“Shit, dude,” he hears next to himself, louder than expected.

“Almost a lil surprised that Yusuke ain’t already finding some kinda muse in this.”

“Nah, don’t worry. Inari isn’t into kinks, sadly. I tried.”

Ann still coughs her coffee out – more aggressively now than before – Makoto takes a deep breath, shakes her head in defeat and closes her eyes as if asking her mind to be patient, and Yusuke.

Oh.  _ Oh. _

“I-Is he blushing?”

Ryuji’s voice is a mere whisper against Akira’s ear, and to his sheer terror,  _ yes _ , Yusuke  _ is _ blushing. Futaba is being  _ serious _ about this.

“She’s dangerous,” Ryuji announces audibly, gestures at Futaba and tries to lift the attention from himself and Akira. “Who would’a thought there’s so much  _ dirt  _ in this mind? Holy fuck, imagine all the things she’s seen’n done-”

“I don’t want to hear  _ any _ of the details regarding  _ any _ of this,” Makoto says loudly enough for all of them to hear, and Akira swears he’s never found himself agree more eagerly to  _ anything _ in his life.

He really,  _ really _ needs a word with Futaba.

About  _ many _ things.

**Author's Note:**

> -mentioned Yutaba  
> -Yusuke blushes
> 
> Well, lod. I guess... ;)


End file.
